The beginning: No Dialogue version
by SomecallmeMichelle
Summary: For the /r/fanfiction subreddit prompt "write a character death with no dialogue", a loose retelling of the first two episodes, that mostly follows canon from Terry's point of view. No dialogue
*Bam*

He hit the wall with enough force that his vision started tinting itself and the edges started going, slowly he started drifting. He was smart enough, and had schooled himself long enough to realise something had cracked, probably something important, and he was slowly bleeding to death, he felt calm, oddly, it didn't hurt as much as he'd hoped.

As he lay there dying a single, permeating through went through his mind, the thought of his only son….and how he would react to all this...would he be sad, angry, mad? He was only glad that he had disobeyed him and ran away that night, or he would have been used as bait. What he couldn't imagine was that from his death a new story, a new legend was about to unfold, a new hero that would go...beyond…

…

The sound of a brick wall being hit could be heard as Terry McGinnis hit it with all the strength he had. He wanted to yell out in pain. He wanted to pierce the heavens and scream out to whomever, whatever deity was listening that it wasn't fair. Yet he didn't. He couldn't let himself be controlled by it.

Ever since Terry was little that he had been a trouble maker. Sent to Juvie when he was underage - which had earned him a lighter sentence, thankfully. - In his father last night, he had blatantly disobeyed him and gone out. And while part of him knew that if the Jokerz, or whomever had really broken in and assaulted his father had killed him, then he wouldn't have stood a chance. - The group that had named themselves after the former clown prince of crime, and biggest threat the city of Gotham had ever seen often came in groups, and he was all but one. - He couldn't help but think that, like the old dvds his father had in his collection (broken or stolen, he didn't care, they hadn't let him inside, collecting evidence), he could have stood a chance. A bigger nauseating feel came up his throat. As if.

He had always had a personality that was hard to deal with, he had to admit, words didn't need to be said, his fists did the talking, a hard left, or an uppercut to the jaw and he would say what needed to be said. He couldn't stand what a hell-hole Gotham had turned out into, but then, then he couldn't stand out a lot of things.

It looked like he was always trying to get trouble, and this was no exception….he wondered, as he walked through the tagged walls, with the word "haha", a definitive mark of the Jokerz - everything having been cleaned out, the dvds too as he expected, though this being the 2030's nobody used those old things except old souls like his dad - and he held out a sob - until he noticed something.

A disc…or rather a mini disc. Technology had advanced to a point where most things used sd cards and or chips, why keep things in discs? They broke easily, but Terry contemplated it. Ever since he had come back from the night and seen that he couldn't enter, because the entrance to his house was sealed off with the yellow police tape he hadn't been feeling anything but sorry for himself, small tears coming to the corners of his eyes, a tight burning feeling on the back of his throat, a weight like a million tons on his back, it felt so heavy that it was like he couldn't walk, but this...this...well…

This sparked a new feeling, a new feeling but sadness in him, this sparked curiosity. It was pretty well hidden. If he hadn't known his...and he took another stutter in his steps as he approached as he thought to it, his father so well, if he hadn't, known him so well, he wouldn't have known where he kept it. But what was in it.

He quickly inserted it into a mini computer that had stayed there, why the Jokerz hadn't taken it he had no idea when suddenly….

….

He almost felt the need to let out a curse, but he controlled himself, even if it felt appropriate. Old Terry would have uttered the curse, he would have uttered words that have made women cover their children's ears, but he couldn't risk being seen or heard, not when he had the disc, on him.

He had the feeling that this wasn't the work of Jokerz after all.

….

It had been by a stroke of luck that he had found out who Batman was, ever youngster who wasn't raised by crooks grew to idolise the old symbol, even if he hadn't been active in 20 years, and the man, Bruce Wayne, as Terry Mcginnis had found out, had been it.

It had been the perfect disguise, from what he knew of him, Bruce Wayne, the playboy, had been such a diva, a playboy, who nobody would suspect a thing, even if his various charities did help the city. But many had figured that to be the work of Public Relationships representatives and not the man himself. So when the man, now in his 60's to 70's, had come to save him from a bunch of Jokerz and he had accidentally found out the entrance to the Batcave, behind the grandfather's clock, going down stairs, and not sliding down a pole…like he had imagined it in his imagination as a kid, with sproing sound effects added to the mix...

Well it felt wrong to steal from one he had idolized, one his father had told him stories about in the past, but he had to do it, a fierce hunger for revengeance burned inside of him, his mouth had been sewn shut, not literally of course, but empathetically, by the drive he had to avenge his father. Derek Powers. The bastard that had killed his father and all because of the disc he had in his hand. Well he wanted the disc?

A part of him knew that it would be simpler to explain the situation to the old Batman, who must still have a sense of right, after all it was his company developing a weapon so deadly and so illegal even the Geneva convention, written 90 years prior, hadn't plans for it.

But he didn't need the help from anyone, he snuck in and took it. He had allowed his father to be murdered. If the bastard wanted the disc, he'd shove it so far up his a...up a certain place, that it would come out his mouth.

The suit automatically adjusted to him, and the boy grunted in approval, it reminded him of a movie his father had made him watch, back to the future 2, sure 2015 had been gone even before he was born, him being a 2019 kid, and that 2015 was ridiculous, but it was pretty good movie, and that happy memory of his father only made him more determined to prove to that little bastard that he was about to get defeated.

He moved trying to get adjusted to the speed. It granted him. Almost paradoxically his punches felt heavier somehow, and once he clicked his heels, like dorothy in the freaking Wizard of Oz - another movie his dad really liked, but this one he had first seen with his mother. - a set of flames started going and he started hovering.

The freedom...the freedom was tremendous, and he couldn't help but let out a whistle of appreciation, this was swell! Under any other circumstances he would take this baby out for a joy ride. Partake in dances around Gotham, or well, as the youngsters called it, Neo-Gotham, but he reminded himself, he had a mission to do.

The gliding function of the suit worked perfectly and he automatically adjusted to it, it was like he was made to fly, Terry had never been queasy, or afraid of heights, this was why he was perfect for this. He knew there was no safety net, and if he fell, he'd fall straight into Gotham's cold, unforgiving traffic thousand of feet down, but he didn't care.

As he arrived at the place where he knew Derek and his goon would meet with the ambassador or dictator or whomever he couldn't help but tense up his fists. The suit picked up on this and added strength to that fist, It felt good to be that powerful. It was almost like a drug. If he threw a punch with his left, the guys would be thrown against a wall.

Now more fast, more agile, and also stronger, he had to contend with the biggest problem of them all...guards with lasers..it might not look like it, but lasers, while technically only stunning, left just as big of a mark and a burn, as a bullet wound, in the olden times. And while the suit technically protected, who knew what the goons of Derek Powers had enhanced their weapons with? Terry didn't want to find out.

He scowered. Grinding his teeth, but trying to do so silently so as to not give his position away, his suit had a stealth mode, but that only lasted for brief moments, consuming the batteries rather quickly, so it looked like he would have to confront the goons.

He might have the strength and agility of Bruce Wayne, the former Batman in his prime, but he had none of the planning skills. Instead of cornering them, like perhaps a snake cornering his prey, or doing it stealthily, he did it the only way he knew how, street brawling.

The first guy went flying into a shipping container, but Terry had no time to worry about that as the noise attracted the attention of 3 or 4 other guys. He didn't know if those were hired mooks, or just security guards - it was a Wayne-Powers building, after all, but they had guns pointing at him, and he didn't know what to do. Since he had no hookshot to speak of he pushed the boost button, using his flames to shoot towards a guy and hitting a wall with him, breaking the man's collarbone.

Wayne-Power was an equal opportunies workplace however and the two remaining people, women, had now his back on sight, and he was out of luck, one of them shoot a shot of laser towards his lower back. It didn't burn as hard as it would if he didn't have his suit, but it stung enough to make him waver his knees.

He quickly turned around and faced them. A scowl on his face. He was losing time, he didn't have time for this silly fight, or to explain the situation! Sometimes all he had to do was cause a distraction, noticing a loose crate, he grabbed a batarang, one bat shaped boomerang, and shot it against a crate. As the bat shaped thing had very sharp edges, it cut away and released everything inside the crate, slowing them down. He used the rocket shoes to fly away.

It was time to search for them…he had to find that man...he had already hurt his father and who knew how many, he wouldn't let him hurt anyone else.

He was the new goddamn Batman

 **Words (according to google docs): 1897**

 **Author's note: So this is for the fanfiction subreddit prompt challenge, more specifically the one that's "** **Kill a character with no dialogue. None. Not one spoken word the entire fic, from** _ **anyone.**_ **Make us feel whatever emotion you're aiming for without resorting to dialogue. You might be surprised how successful this can be."**

 **This reminded me of...what else, batman beyond, since, obviously Bruce and Terry couldn't have that little talk or Terry couldn't convince Bruce to help him or have his suit deactivated, this is a loose retelling, and doesn't follow canon 100 percent. But I think it turned out alright.**

 **Thank you for reading, and reviews?**


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